SOTA c06s01
Text Scrivener Blooms sat behind the little desk that had been set up in the bookshop, chewing slowly on one of his front hooves before Barry grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him firmly, whispering for the hundredth time into his ear through a strained grin: “Get your hoof out of your mouth before someone takes another damn picture!” The charcoal stallion winced and dropped his hoof, then he looked awkwardly back and forth: there were already several copies of his book piled up on either side of the desk, and an assistant was opening another box beside him. But this wasn't the library in Ponyville: this was a massive book store in the heart of Canterlot City, with aisles upon aisles of texts and tomes, and Scrivener Blooms sitting in what was normally a 'reading area' that expensive furniture had been cleared out of to leave a big open space. A big open space crowded with aristocratic-looking ponies, reporters, other important figures... and horribly, some of his patrons. Lights shone down mercilessly from hanging lamps above, chasing away any shadows and possible hiding places apart from under the desk. A walkway went around the top of the reading area, leading to private rooms and a second floor filled with more books: this was admittedly the kind of place Scrivener would love to wander and get lost in until he found the mythology aisle, but right now it was purgatory instead of paradise with how he was trapped here, just waiting for it to become hell when Barry signaled the start of this whole... show. Because that's what this was, wasn't it? A show, where he was the entertainment. Right now, Celestia was mingling a little with Rosewood puttering around beside her, making the occasional note and helping keep order. But soon, all that attention would go from Celestia to him, and he had no idea what the hell he was going to do or say. His hoof rose towards his mouth again, and Barry smacked the back of his head, Scrivener wincing before his agent said hurriedly: “Champ, get it together, stallion! Look at you, you're a stud, you're a king, you're” so weak and pathetic “the hot new thing!” Barry tried to reassure, but Scrivener grabbed at his head as a dull throb of pain went through his skull, wincing a little. He had heard something... something like a whisper that echoed throughout his skull... He hammered a hoof against his head lightly, and when he realized Barry was staring at him, the charcoal stallion shook his head and muttered: “It's... it's nothing. I just have a headache and... this isn't like last time. I know a bunch of my friends are here again to support me, but they won't be front and center and... there's a lot of ponies here. A lot of important ones, at that.” “It's going to be fine, okay? You're going to do great.” Barry said empathetically, and then he patted Scrivener firmly on the shoulder before smiling and pointing outwards at Antares, who was standing with Aphrodisia and Pinkamena. “And look there, there's your support team right there.” Scrivener looked mildly at Pinkamena, who looked back for a moment before making a particularly-rude gesture at him, and the earth pony sighed and dropped his head forwards to clunk loudly into the desk. “I'm so screwed.” “Okay, look, just get through this and then” you can go cry, pathetic little plebeian. I was wrong, you're not just a hack: you're a trained monkey, dancing for the organ grinder so the jeering crowd will dangle a treat above your drooling maw. “we'll be done and you can go back to your vacation. Well, you know, after you show how dedicated to the cause you are by meeting up with Underbrush.” Barry said quickly, and then he frowned a little at the fact that Scrivener had gone rigid and pale, staring blankly outwards. “Champ?” “Oh no. No, no, no, any time but now, please, please, please not now...” Scrivener grabbed at his head, trembling as he heard Valthrudnir's mocking laughter before he caught a sharp vision of the Jötnar grinning and looking into some enormous, curious window. Then the vision was gone, and Scrivener looked back and forth before he said hurriedly to Barry: “You... you should... I mean, I think I'm getting sick, this-” Oh come now, philistine! Are you truly so arrogant to think this... 'book signing' is something important enough I would lower myself to interrupting your worthless little 'victory?' Valthrudnir sounded almost disgusted, but there was a malicious amusement in his voice, too, that made Scrivener grind his teeth together and grab at his skull in vexation. Do not be a child, Nihete. Your stress levels simply rose sharply... and I desired to take a little look outside and see just what could be upsetting your childish mind so. And somehow I'm unsurprised to find it's nothing more serious than engaging in a session of egotistical self-indulgence, for what you think of as 'intellectual pursuits' and I, on the other hand, only see as much a victory as when primitives learned to slather muddy sticks together and form their savage little dwellings. “Get out of my head!” Scrivener snarled, and Barry stared at him, slowly opening his mouth before the charcoal pony slammed his hooves against his own temples, cursing under his breath. “You're not real!” Oh, as if your insectile mind could comprehend what is necessary to even imitate such a magnificence like mine. Valthrudnir retorted, and Scrivener grimaced as he heard the riffling of cards before the Jötnar said dismissively: Begone, puerile little pony. I wish to enjoy your squirming and suffering without having to put up with your wheedling and whining today. I will not interrupt your colloquial body-rubbing session, that is far too crude for my taste and intellect. Besides, I see that you do a good enough job of ruining whatever favor comes your way as it is. “Uh... so, champ, I'm... going to ask the guys to come forwards now... just hold it together, alright?” Barry said slowly, and Scrivener winced and looked up, but too late, as the agent strode forwards around the desk and called in a cheery voice: “Okay, colts and fillies, come on, let's get this show on the road!” What a miserable metaphor. Valthrudnir remarked, and Scrivener felt like smashing his head into the desk as he wondered miserably if he was going to have to put up with Valthrudnir editorializing this entire session. Shut up and focus, idiot equus. Or do you want to appear like a drooling, slack moron? Which admittedly would be a little more intelligent than you usually appear to be. Scrivener fought back the urge to respond and forced a smile as Barry gestured at him, and there was polite applause from the audience: the very large audience that spanned back into the shelves, he realized, and the stallion swallowed thickly. He could only see a few people he knew here and there, and even though Celestia was standing nearby, he couldn't see Luna or Twilight Sparkle... and realized that his link with them was filled with static as well, likely a side effect of Valthrudnir's presence. But he realized he wasn't saying anything – apt deduction, cretin! – and Scrivener reached up and hammered the side of his head once before he forced his own smile, saying finally: “Wow, there's a whole lot of you here today.” The crowd didn't quite react the same way Ponyville had to his... particular charm, and Valthrudnir laughed loudly in his mind, making his brain twist and ache. Scrivener fought down a flush as he rubbed at the rumpled suit he was wearing, suddenly wishing he actually had tried to dress a little neater before he cleared his throat and began: “It's just... humbling to look out and see all of you here. To think that already, my book is being read, and that you've all come here today to see me. Well, I suppose the fact the Baroness is here helps, too.” Scrivener smiled over at Celestia, who smiled back... but he saw the concern in her eyes as well. For now, though, Scrivener gave the smallest shake of his head, then turned his eyes back to the audience. He let himself fall into a short summary of I Am, You Are, every now and then looking towards his small knot of family near the front: and seeing Antares smiling, Pinkamena looking at him intently, Aphrodisia's bright, happy look... it all helped him push through. Luna also managed to squeeze to the front of the crowd with Twilight, and he could tell that the sapphire mare was working hard not to interrupt what was going on, looking at him worriedly. But he gave her a smile, even as he finished quietly: “And well, I know I can't give away the whole story, so... that's enough for now. Now uh... we're going to take questions first, I believe, before we get on to the book signing, so... let's do that.” What a remarkable solecism, even for a hack like you. Valthrudnir's voice mocked, and Scrivener reached up and struck himself in the temple lightly, then pretended to smooth down his mane as the Jötnar added dryly: Yes, simpleton. Keep striking yourself in the skull. Perhaps one day you'll strike yourself hard enough to dislodge my spiritual essence. I would add that you could possibly also give yourself brain damage, but it doesn't seem there's enough actual brain present for that to be worrisome. “Stop. Talking.” Scrivener muttered though grit teeth, low enough that only Barry heard him, the agent tossing him a nervous look before the charcoal stallion cleared his throat and gestured to the murmuring crowd and one of the ponies waving for his attention. “Yes uh... you, miss, with the... the thing. The necklace.” Valthrudnir only laughed at him again, but the young mare only gazed at him with shining eyes as she reached up and touched her golden chain. “Mr. Blooms, is... wow, is that true that you have two wives? Really? Like, really?” “Uh. Sure.” Scrivener said finally, and the mare giggled and turned to another young mare, the two gossiping excitedly as Twilight and Luna both glared moodily through the crowd, and the stallion couldn't help but add: “Although as Luna likes to say, it's more like she's the one with two wives.” That, at least, managed to get a few chuckles, and Scrivener smiled a bit before he gestured towards a stallion with a notepad near the front. The young Pegasus looked surprised but pleased to be chosen, asking quickly: “You go over your childhood in the north as one of the anecdotal stories at the end of the book... how did you survive? Where are your parents now?” “I survived because... I had to. It's not something I can explain very well... I just have always felt that there has to be some balance in life, that maybe if I managed to survive a crappy childhood, I could find... a good life as an adult. I know it's a huge logical fallacy now but...” Scrivener smiled a little over at Luna. “At the same time, I don't seem to have been entirely wrong. As to my parents... they're... both dead. And neither of them had any... real family I knew about. Nor who I really want to know about, to be honest. I don't think they'd treat me any better than my father did.” He quieted, then frowned a little at the lack of reaction from Valthrudnir. No, he could still feel the Jötnar's presence in his mind, but... it felt like he was calmly waiting for something, and it made the stallion nervous, before Barry said firmly: “Champ here is proof that anypony can be who and what they wanna be, or at least that's what I tell myself... probably 'cause I hope one day I'll manage to be as successful as he's been, that is. Now hey uh... how about-” “How about me?” asked a pleasant voice, and Scrivener stared in shock as a unicorn near the front looked up with a derisive smile, dressed in a beautiful, flowing blue hat and matching feathered fascinator that hid her horn. But her eyes were focused and intent, and Scrivener recognized her all too well now that her hat was no longer covering her face: Ersatz Major. “Unless you're too afraid, Scrivener Blooms, of any more illicit secrets coming to light.” “You know, no one's actually let me read the first article you did on me yet. But believe me, I really, really want to.” Scrivener said dryly, and Ersatz touched her own chest, giving him a flattered look. “So uh... what are you going to focus on for this article?” “Oh, well, you know. Whatever comes to mind.” Ersatz said kindly, as Barry hissed loudly at one of the assistants, who hurried quickly off. Then the mare gave a smile, asking in a falsely-friendly voice: “So, before your storm troopers come to drag me off, Scrivener Blooms, do answer this: you once wrote a story where you raped your own daughter into slavery, isn't that right?” Scrivener stared for a moment... then he shook his head slowly and asked incredulously: “Where the hell did that come from? I think your sources may have misled you a teensy-tiny bit, Ersatz, on that call. Because I'm pretty sure I'd remember writing a story like that.” Ersatz frowned ever-so-slightly, as Valthrudnir said distastefully in his mind: I don't know what I should applaud: the fact you managed to outwit another idiot insect or all the effort you've put into deluding yourself that you think this was a cunning sidestep. Scrivener resisted the urge to punch himself in the head again, and instead sat back before grimacing when Ersatz's eyes seemed to narrow, and she asked smoothly: “So you deny the existence of a story known as 'Because Love Conquers All?'” The stallion hesitated, wondering at the same time how the hell Ersatz could strut in here and know... so much about him. Then he forced himself to smile, and replied calmly: “I wrote that story down, sure, but it was originally told by a good friend. And it was a dark romance, but... not quite as dark as you made it. And a little more romantic.” Ersatz was smiling again now, though, and Scrivener direly didn't like that expression on her face before the mare glanced over her shoulder as the crowd parted for several Royal Guards and a one-eyed unicorn in a black security uniform. Then she looked back ahead, asking kindly: “One more question, before I go?” “Go ahead.” Scrivener almost challenged, and the two locked eyes as Scrivener studied her, tried to place her, wondered why the hell she had such a clear vendetta against him. “I was just curious about these passages about you being a Clockwork Pony... it strikes me that you must be very eager for attention. I mean, either you really have these powers, and you're desperate to be recognized as some powerful otherwordly entity, or you actually don't, and instead you're just a pathetic little stallion living in a dreamworld. Which is it?” Ersatz asked curiously. Scrivener opened his mouth, and Celestia gave him a pointed look as Barry reached up and grabbed the stallion's shoulder with something like a whimper, and the charcoal earth pony grumbled to himself and forced himself to calm down before he replied in as calm a voice as he could: “I am what I am. I couldn't lie about it or skip over it... that would ruin the entire point of this book.” “Quaint.” Ersatz said, and then she turned around and strode calmly away, and Scrivener wished moodily he could throw the desk at her as the guards fell in on either side of her to escort her out. All the same, she called over her shoulder: “Goodbye, Scrivener Blooms. I'll send you an advance copy of my new article.” “Really looking forwards to it.” Scrivener snapped in return before he could stop himself, and then he sighed tiredly before turning a moody look on Barry, who quailed a little. The crowd was murmuring to one-another, though, and the stallion forced himself to look forwards, quickly saying: “Let's... let's keep moving, shall we? Uh... does anypony else have any questions for me?” There was a little bit of awkward shifting, and Barry tugged at the collar of his suit with a strained smile out at Underbrush, as the publisher scowled at them moodily. But then someone rose their hoof, and Barry hurriedly gestured to the bespectacled pony, who smiled and said courteously: “Scrivener Blooms, I've been discussing your story with my class at the university, and we were curious about your development as a writer... you said you have no formal training, correct?” “None. I taught myself to read and write, pretty much... although... to be fair, I think I remember times when my mother would read to me, but...” Scrivener smiled a little after a moment. “That might be wishful thinking. I learned most of my stuff on my own, though... and no offense, I think that if you want to be a writer, it's something you have to learn by doing. You can learn all the theory you want, all the rules and everything... but even when I worked with students at the university myself, it was the misfits and the ones who didn't do as well in other subjects that often really shone in their writing.” He hesitated, glancing at Barry, and then sighed inwardly as he added: “You know, I'm in Canterlot for a few days. I would be happy to stop in at your class, if you'd be interested.” The professor smiled warmly behind her glasses, and in the crowd, Underbrush looked meditative as Barry half-turned away, doing a bad job of hiding his grin and hoof-pump. “That would be wonderful, Mr. Blooms! As a matter of fact, we're doing a unit on poetry in a few days... perhaps you could start us off with a reading from your book, Rose Thorns?” “Sure.” Scrivener fought to keep the surprise out of his voice, but then he smiled and nodded, adding: “Just uh... stick around for a minute or two after I get all this out of the way, and I'm sure my agent will be happy to set everything up.” “Thrilled, just thrilled to!” Barry added positively, straightening and nodding rapidly before he glanced back and forth, then pointed quickly to another pony, saying easily: “And you, sir, what question do you have for the author?” The rest of the session went well, and afterwards, Scrivener settled a little as he signed books and gave smiles he only had to force a little to ponies who came up to the table. Luna and Twilight were able to join him, and he was sharply-aware of Underbrush's eyes on him, feeling himself being judged the entire time but trying to concentrate on his work. Barry was quick to chat up the professor, too, making her laugh and smile and setting up a time as Scrivener reflected that more and more of his vacation was getting eaten away at. Yet all the same he did feel a little good... even with that sensation of Valthrudnir looking down at him with disdain and distaste from inside his own head. It didn't take long, and Scrivener sighed in relief as ponies began to filter away... before he smiled a little and looked up as the unicorn in the black security uniform approached, nodding respectfully to Celestia before turning his single, sharp hazel eye to Scrivener Blooms. His coat was a dark chestnut, and his mane was black and cut short, like his tail: but it was his stance as much as anything else that made it clear this was a unicorn from the far north. “Scrivener Blooms. I apologize for allowing Ersatz in. It won't happen again.” “Oh, don't apologize to the slave hoof, Scutum.” Rosewood grumbled from where she was scribbling in a notebook, and the charcoal stallion turned a sour look on the pale pink unicorn, who only glared back at him distastefully. “Don't look down on me, mudwalker.” “So did you get divorced from your husband yet, or is the fact you're sleeping with Scutum still technically adultery?” Scrivener asked sourly, and Rosewood gave him a furious look as Celestia sighed and looked up at the ceiling tiredly. Scutum remained as impassive as ever as Rosewood and Scrivener glowered at one-another, and then the earth pony was distracted when a throat cleared loudly, turning his eyes dumbly across the desk to see Underbrush looming towards him. “I assume you have time for a short chat.” “Uh. Yes.” Scrivener said finally, recognizing that tone all too well: it clearly was not a question. He smiled awkwardly, then slipped away from the desk and smiled as he passed Luna, who gazed encouragingly back at him before turning and striding quickly towards Rosewood to take his place in bickering with her. Underbrush led the charcoal pony away, Scrivener looking lamely after the much-better dressed earth pony and through an employee's only door, into an empty, cold stone corridor. Scrivener looked lamely back and forth as they stopped, and then Underbrush turned around and fixed the larger but far-more-nervous stallion with a measuring look. But the only thing Scrivener could think of was to ask lamely: “Should we... be here?” “I own the building.” Underbrush said shortly, and Scrivener felt dumbfounded but not surprised. He reached up and rubbed awkwardly at his forehead, then realized with a small measure of relief that the presence of Valthrudnir was gone at least... before he winced when Underbrush said quietly: “I don't like you.” Scrivener opened his mouth, and Underbrush tilted his head slightly and made a sharp clicking sound with his tongue: immediately, Scrivener fell silent, before he recoiled slightly in surprise as he recognized the gesture, his eyes widening... and Underbrush nodded slowly as he said softly: “Yes, precisely. And that's why I don't like you, slave hoof. “You escaped the north, but what have you done with your freedom, with the possibility to advance in life?” Underbrush gestured at him contemptibly, and Scrivener leaned back a little before the moss-colored earth pony stomped his hoof angrily down, gritting his teeth. “Do you know how happy I was when my master died, and I was disbanded instead of passed on to a new owner? I was free to leave. And I left, with nothing but my rags, and I pursued the one thing the unicorns always hated to see us earth ponies touch: literature. I found a job as a fact-checker for a newspaper, worked my way up to editor, and eventually found a position with a publishing company. I made it onto the board of directors, and built an empire of gold and silver out of rags and ashes. “And you, what have you done, slave hoof?” Underbrush looked at him darkly, then he shook his head and stomped his hoof again, dropping his head and closing his eyes as he said quietly: “I hate you. I have money, power, and I make the pathetic, slovenly proud-horns bow to me. And you? I read that story about your mother, you want to... to forgive her for what she did to you? I never knew my parents but the last thing I'd ever do is forgive them for leaving me a slave. You've wasted all your talents and life and freedom hiding away until you wrote this stupid book, and you don't even care about gaining all the things they stole before you were even born!” Scrivener didn't know what to say, shifting and looking back and forth before Underbrush looked up and said quietly: “And that's why I hate you. If a proud-horn like the Baroness' assistant ever called me a 'slave hoof,' I would ensure she was dragged through Canterlot's muddiest roads on her face by earth pony knights. Yet you talk to her with respect. You have no wealth, no status... and you talk about yourself like you're happy with yourself, as some... half-slave soldier of your winged unicorn wife and her undead mistress.” “You hate me... because I'm happy... and you're not?” Scrivener said incredulously, and Underbrush glared at him angrily before the charcoal stallion shook his head and said finally: “Underbrush, listen-” Underbrush made that gesture again with his head, clicking his tongue: the same motion unicorns made to their slaves to silence them, and again, Scrivener couldn't help but shut his mouth before the moss-colored earth pony closed his eyes tightly. Then he took a slow breath and opened them, seeming to regain some of his control as he asked coldly: “Who is Ersatz Major to you?” Scrivener shook his head, and when Underbrush glared at him, he winced back and said hurriedly: “I don't know! She... she looks like some northern unicorn, but... I've never met her before. I have no idea why the hell she seems determined to attack me and everypony I'm connected to.” “You're going to agree to an interview with her, because she's undoubtedly going to ask.” Underbrush said moodily, and Scrivener stared in disbelief at the earth pony across from him, mouthing wordlessly before the business mogul added quietly: “And you're going to find out who she is. I want to know why she hates you, because until you do, you are a liability, and I will not have let any unicorn get any kind of advantage over me. But if you do find out, Scrivener Blooms, you'll have carte blanche. You want it published, I will publish it, whether it will sell or not.” The earth pony mouthed stupidly again, and then Underbrush turned and strode towards the door, before the charcoal stallion finally managed: “Who is Ersatz Major to you to... to offer me that much just to find out what she wants?” “Why don't you pick up one of her trash-talk articles and find out for yourself?” Underbrush replied over his shoulder, and then he halted at the door and added moodily: “I do have some... special experience with her, yes, but I can tell she has a special interest in destroying you. She wouldn't be so forwards otherwise... she wouldn't risk upsetting too many big names like she is right now.” Scrivener Blooms shifted nervously at this, and then Underbrush shoved the door open and left. For a few moments, the charcoal stallion only sat in the hallway, reaching up to rub slowly at his aching head as he mumbled: “This... this is wonderful. Please. Please, let's go back to fighting monsters. Horses of Heaven, monsters were easier to deal with than this.” The charcoal stallion slumped a little, dropping his head forwards before he finally picked himself up with a mumble, striding towards the doorway and pushing it open. He poked his head out, glancing awkwardly back and forth to make sure Underbrush or any other scary ponies weren't lingering around, and then he carefully stepped back out into the room... only to immediately find Barry in his face, his agent grinning eagerly up at him. “Well? Well? What did Underbrush have to say, champ? Good stuff I bet, right? Right?” “He hates me.” Scrivener said absently, glancing back and forth nervously, and Barry turned dead white and stared at him with utter horror, and the charcoal stallion winced a little before continuing carefully: “But he says he'll... pretty much publish anything I want if we can find out what Ersatz wants with me. He really hates her for some reason.” “I'll get to digging immediately!” Barry said hurriedly, some of his color returning before he turned and dashed off, and Scrivener only looked mildly after the small earth pony before his eyes were drawn to Pinkamena as the demon approached, looking moodily after the lanky male as well. “You know, I hate it when small ponies run away from me. I get this urge to chase after them, kill them, and eat them.” she remarked conversationally, and Scrivener simply shrugged a little before the gray-pink pony studied him for a moment. “You... okay?” Scrivener hesitated, then lowered his head a little before he smiled a bit when Aphrodisia and Antares approached. His son was looking at him uneasily as well, but Aphrodisia only smiled brightly, gazing up at him and saying warmly: “You did really good, Uncle Scrivy! And you know, Mommy and I can go kill those people who bothered you, if you wanted.” “Scrivener can kill his own douchebags, sweetie.” Pinkamena said mildly, reaching up and ruffling her daughter's mane, and Aphrodisia giggled a little as Antares sighed and shook his head, but gave a bit of a smile all the same. “I do look forwards to the day when you finally snap though, Scrivy. It'll be great, seeing you transform into a Tyrant Wyrm or something and eat a whole bunch of stupid little ponies.” The charcoal stallion sighed at this, then he glanced up as Luna approached, remarking: “Now, Pinkamena, do not be so optimistic. Aye, 'twould be great to see Scrivener become some terrible monster, but knowing him, he is far more likely to cry about it than wreak horrible vengeance.” Scrivener gave a sour look to Luna, and then the sapphire mare leaned in and locked gazes with him: her closeness as well as their locked gaze helped force the static blocking their link to diminish, and the mare frowned after a moment before turning her eyes to Celestia. The ivory winged unicorn was already approaching, however, and Scrivener shifted awkwardly before smiling lamely when Luna said quietly: “I believe we should see Selene as soon as possible. It seems that stress... aggravates my husband's... condition, so to speak.” “Are you okay, Dad?” Antares asked quietly, and Scrivener glanced over at his son before a strange memory rose to mind, and he smiled faintly in spite of himself; it was just like when he'd been a baby, looking up at his parents with those knowing eyes of his, asking in his so-serious toddler's voice: Daddy hurt? “Dad?” “Yeah. Yeah, sorry, just... lost in memories for a moment.” Scrivener shook his head a bit, then he glanced back and forth curiously before asking: “Where's Twilight?” Luna huffed at this, but Celestia only smiled, replying quietly: “Paying a friend a visit, I believe. I'm sure she'll join us when she can in Subterra, but... well, first, Scrivener, it seems you have some fans to attend to.” Scrivener looked up in surprise to see there were indeed a few ponies lingering, and the charcoal stallion shifted a bit before nodding and reaching up to squeeze Luna's shoulder, reassuring her that he could handle this as he smiled lamely and stepped away from the group. Pinkamena watched as he walked away, and then she sniffed a bit and glanced moodily at the others, saying dryly: “Better him than me. I still think he's more stupid than brave though. Isn't courageous to go walking all nice-like over to ponies when you're scared of dealing with them. It's just stupid. People suck.” “So positive, Pinkamena.” Luna said drolly, and the demon shrugged as Aphrodisia giggled again and Antares shook his head with an amused look at his mother. “But... still. I do agree all the same. And the last thing I want to deal with is a socialist Scrivener Blooms.” Celestia opened her mouth to correct Luna's word choice, and then she simply sighed and closed it when her younger sibling gave her a sour look, shaking her head. Then the ivory mare's eyes drew back up to the charcoal stallion, silently praising him not just for trying to be a little more social... but doing it in spite of all the other problems she knew he was dealing with right now. She just hoped that this extra stress wouldn't be what helped whatever was going on in Scrivener's mind help take further hold than it already had. Top ↑